by Barb Han
“Sad about what happened to the other nurse. I shouldn’t be talking to you right now,” she said. The panic in her voice was palpable. “It’s not safe.”
“Have you already spoken to investigators?” He knew the answer. He was trying to get her to see reason. Folks in a highly charged emotional state weren’t known for making the best decisions. Based on the sound of her voice and the fact she was up in the middle of the night, he figured she’d been chewing on yesterday’s events.
“Yes,” she conceded.
“Then you need additional protection for you and your child,” he stated like it was as plain as the nose on his face.
“Where am I supposed to get that?” Her voice trembled with fear.
“I’m here to help. I apologize for not introducing myself yesterday morning. My name is Riggs O’Connor,” he said.
“I know that n...” She drew out the last consonant. It was like bells were going off inside her head and she couldn’t figure out why.
“Go ahead and look me up. I’ll wait,” he urged.
“Hold on.” The line got quiet for a couple of minutes and he was pretty sure she’d used the mute function. When she came back to the line, he could hear her breathing for a moment before she spoke. “Why would someone like you help me?”
“Because you helped us. Your statement will help nail the person who killed my wife’s best friend and, more important, it’s the right thing to do.” He meant every word.
Loriann was quiet. Stunned? A question hung in the air. Would she accept his offer?
Chapter Sixteen
“That’s mighty nice of you, Mr. O’Connor, but I don’t think—”
“Accept my help for your child,” he interrupted before she could get too much momentum on the rejection.
“I don’t know,” she hedged but he could tell his statement had made the impact he’d hoped for.
“Do you have a boy or a girl?” he asked.
“Boy,” came the response.
“How old, if I may ask?” He’d learned a long time ago that he got more done with honey than vinegar, as the old saying went.
“Six years old.” She blew out a sharp breath.
“I’m guessing he’s asleep right now,” he continued.
“Yes, that’s right. He is,” she acknowledged.
“Let me help you keep him safe, Loriann. My wife and I would like to come pick the two of you up and bring you to my family’s ranch, where you’ll both be protected until the person who murdered our friend is locked behind bars. No one at the hospital who is willing to speak up against him is safe until that happens and you know it.” He’d made his plea. He couldn’t and wouldn’t try to force her to take the help. At this point, he could only hope she would see reason.
“I wish I could. But I have to work tomorrow.” The anguish in her voice caused his heart to bleed for every single parent who had to balance being able to put food on the table versus ensuring the safety of their child.
“What if you could come to work on the ranch? Get paid what you normally make at the hospital to help out around here?” he asked.
“Well, I guess that could work. But I’d lose my benefits if they fire me,” she said. Based on the change in her tone, he was making progress.
“What if I told you my family could ensure that didn’t happen? If going back there would cause you any discomfort, we could set you up in a new position at another hospital,” he said, doing his best to radiate confidence. For his plan to work, she needed to believe him. Most wouldn’t trust a random stranger but the O’Connors had built a strong legacy of honesty. One that he was hoping to capitalize on now.
“You can do that?” She nearly choked on her words. Then she said, “Of course, you can. I’m not used to keeping company with people who can make a difference like that.”
Riggs was never more reminded how fortunate he was in being an O’Connor, and how rare it actually was to grow up in a household with two loving parents who had the financial means to move mountains if need be. His folks had had an admirable marriage. One he’d believed he could repeat with Cheyenne despite the rushed nature of their wedding.
“We don’t take our privilege lightly,” he reassured her. It was true. Being an O’Connor meant honor and holding up the family name—a job he’d been born to do and welcomed with open arms. “And it would be a waste if we couldn’t use our resources to help others who deserved it.”
The line was quiet. He could tell that Loriann was proud and not the kind to take what she would view as handouts from others lightly. This situation was different, but he respected her for her convictions.
“You say you’ll keep my boy safe until this situation is sorted out,” she finally said.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said quickly. She needed to know how serious and committed he was. No hesitation.
“Do you know where I live?” she asked.
“No. I do not,” he responded.
She rattled off her address before saying, “It might be my imagination running wild but I’m pretty sure a two-door gray sedan has circled the building three times since we started talking. Get here as quick as you can.”
“On my way, but it’ll be about an hour. Call the law and report a suspicious vehicle.” He didn’t want to wake Cheyenne, but he would look in on her and leave a note beside the bed for when she woke. “You have my number now. Call me if anything changes.”
“Okay.”
The line went dead. The gray sedan might be nothing, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He grabbed his shotgun from his gun cabinet in the closet underneath the stairs. And then decided his holster and 9mm wouldn’t be a bad choice, either.
A couple of seconds later, he scribbled out a note to Cheyenne and then headed to the master. He tiptoed inside the room, praying he wouldn’t disturb her, and then he realized that wouldn’t do. He’d promised not to leave her alone while she rested and she’d been asleep a long time. Plus, he’d told Loriann that he and his wife would be picking her up.
The light flipped on as his resolve to wake her grew. Cheyenne sat up, hugging her knees to her chest.
“Where are you going?” She blinked a couple of times like her eyes needed a minute to adjust to the light.
“To pick up the nurse we spoke to yesterday morning. Both she and her child might be in danger. I convinced her to come to the ranch for protection until Ally’s killer is behind bars.” There was no reason to hold back. “I wrote a note explaining but I planned to wake you up and tell you. Make sure you were okay with me leaving.”
“I’m coming with you.” Cheyenne threw the covers off. He forced his gaze away from those long silky legs of hers revealed by the sleeping shirt she wore, which was one of his old T-shirts.
He picked up a pair of her favorite joggers that she’d left behind during the move, no doubt by accident, and then tossed them over to her.
“Thanks.” She caught them and shimmied into the pair.
He opened her dresser and threw a pair of socks next, realizing the movers had left quite a bit behind in their haste. But then, she might have instructed them to grab what they could see and get out.
No one had checked the laundry room when he’d stood by and watched drawers be emptied one by one in their bedroom. He wasn’t about to point out places that had been missed. The memory caused his gut to clench. He chalked it up to one of the worst days of his life.
In the span of two weeks, he’d lost a child and a wife. And in the last twenty-four hours the world had shifted again. To say life was unpredictable would be the understatement of the century. It had more twists and turns than a multimillion-dollar roller coaster and all the ups and downs to go with it.
Cheyenne finished dressing, turning her back to him when she changed her shirt and put on a bra. He respected her privacy.
“Ready.” She hopped on one foot
as she slipped on her second tennis shoe.
She gathered up Ozzy and tucked him inside her handbag. He figured he’d buy her one of those carriers to make them both more comfortable once this was all over.
In a surprise move, she reached for his hand at the door. He didn’t pull away even though he probably should have. There was no reason to confuse the issue of why she was staying there and why they were together... Ally. In fact, if Cheyenne’s friend hadn’t reached out, the two of them wouldn’t be in the same room right now. Add random to the list of life’s attributes. Without that arbitrary idea of Ally’s to have the two of them listen to her at the same time, Cheyenne would still be at her friend’s house and Riggs would be working at the ranch.
The thought struck hard. He wanted his wife to be home because she couldn’t stay away. This was a good reminder to keep his feelings in check. At present, they were all over the map. As levelheaded as Riggs normally was, this situation couldn’t be more extreme. The stakes couldn’t be higher with his wife and child hanging in the balance.
This time, he’d give himself a break for the slip that had him wanting to bury himself deep inside the woman he’d married and not let go of her again.
He released her hand as they entered the garage. She shot a questioning look, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Keeping himself in check was his new marching order.
* * *
CHEYENNE PUSHED DOWN the hurt from Riggs’s action with the realization the two of them were wading through shark-infested waters. It was good to keep guards up and some distance. She respected his boundary, figuring it wouldn’t hurt for her to strengthen her walls, as well.
If they were going to be parents, and she hoped they would with everything inside her, she realized the baby showing up wasn’t a magical fix. Their relationship had been strained over the past few weeks. She’d asked for a divorce and no matter how confusing life had become, neither could go back and pretend none of it had happened.
He was right to pull back, even though it stung.
On the drive to Loriann’s apartment building, he filled her in on his conversation with his brother and how he’d convinced Colton to let him have Loriann’s cell number.
“The gray sedan is worrisome,” she said when he was finished.
“Let’s hope it’s a coincidence. I doubt Loriann is usually up at this time of night looking out the window, so it might not be as strange as she thinks,” he said.
He was right.
“We both know I can’t watch a scary movie before bed,” she agreed. “Plants too many ideas in my imagination and it just runs with it.”
“Like the time you thought there might be a ghost in the laundry room,” he said. “Which turned out to be a squirrel that had gotten in through an opened window earlier in the day.”
“How was I supposed to know the little guy was in there? We didn’t exactly have any pets,” she defended.
“You’d just watched one of those horror movies...which one?” He tapped the steering wheel with his index finger. It was a habit she’d missed in the two weeks they’d been apart. It was crazy how much she missed the little things about her husband. The first kiss in the morning before either got out of bed. It wasn’t romantic so much as sweet. Or the way he always picked a single flower for her while they were in season before he walked in the door. She’d set it inside a jar on the table, keeping a constantly growing and changing bouquet.
Relationships were a lot like that. Leave a spoiled flower in the jar too long and suddenly the water was moldy. They took constant pruning, especially in the early years, according to her mother. Cheyenne thought about how much her mother would have loved Riggs. And she would have been blown away by the ranch. The place was glorious by anyone’s standards, and her mother had been one of the least picky people on the planet.
Her mother had loved the little things in life. A ladybug crawling on a blade of grass. Ladybugs had been her favorite, thus the bracelet.
“What are you thinking about?” Riggs’s deep, masculine voice washed over her and through her.
“My mom.” She fingered the ladybug, rolling it around in between her thumb and forefinger.
The next thing she knew, the delicate clasp broke and the bracelet fell apart. Pieces of it flew in opposite directions, on her lap and on the floorboard. Cheyenne’s chest hurt as she tried to breathe, realizing she’d just ruined her mother’s legacy.
She gasped and probably cursed but she couldn’t be 100 percent certain. All she could think about was the loss.
“No,” she said loudly. She fisted her right hand and then slammed it on the armrest, drawing it back the minute she connected. Pain shot through her pinky.
Riggs put on his turning signal and hit the brake.
“No. No. Keep going. I’ll find the pieces later. We can’t stop now,” she said.
“Cheyenne, are you sure?”
“Yes. It’s too late.” Those words were knife jabs to the center of her chest. She repeated them over and over again in her thoughts as she bent forward to find what she could.
“Use your phone. The dome light won’t do much good,” Riggs urged.
She reached for her cell, disturbing Ozzy, who made no secret of how unimpressed he was with the move.
“Okay, okay. Settle down, little guy.” Breaking her promise to her best friend wasn’t on the table no matter how much the dog overreacted. “You’re good.” She lightened her tone and Ozzy responded by curling up and lowering his head to rest on the side of her handbag. He’d warmed up to her and yet she couldn’t help but think he was in survival mode.
His eyes—those sad eyes that made her want to cry—stared up at her brokenly.
If ever there was a time for wisdom, this would be it. Except that none came. She patted Ozzy on the head and then scratched behind his ears until he went back to sleep.
There was no way she was leaving this truck without finding the ladybug. The rest of the bracelet could be replaced.
She ran her fingers along the floorboard. The piece she was looking for was so tiny and the cab of the truck was so big. It didn’t help that this was a work truck, so it wasn’t exactly empty. There were rags and a couple of empty water bottles on the floorboard in the back. And there were clumps of dirt. One fooled her into thinking she’d found what she was looking for as she reached underneath the seat.
“I hate to stop what you’re doing, but we’re here and I need you to take something.” Riggs pulled into a parking spot and then handed over a 9mm handgun. “Can you handle this?”
“I can,” she assured him, figuring she better qualify the statement. “My parents took me to a shooting range when I was a teenager, so I’d know what to do if I encountered a gun at a friend’s house. Shotguns are a different story. I’ve never used one. And I didn’t load any of the weapons I shot that day.”
It felt strange that she hadn’t told him that story before or that her husband didn’t know all the little things about her. After discovering the pregnancy and then jumping into marriage, they’d gone straight to getting ready for the baby mode. They’d only been dating a short time before the pregnancy news came.
Riggs nodded.
“I have to find the charm first,” Cheyenne said.
He seemed to catch on immediately. This was important to her. He gave a quick scan of the parking lot before taking hold of the cell while she resumed her search.
Cheyenne reached for the chair release lever. Her fingers landed on a button. She played with it until she figured out how to move the seat back. Then she moved onto all fours to be eye level with the floor.
“I can’t find it, Riggs.” She didn’t bother to hide the desperation in her voice.
He moved the flashlight around, and then she saw it.
“There.” She reached underneath the seat. Warmth spread through her as she picked it up a
nd held it on the flat of her palm.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The metal barrel of a gun beat out a staccato rhythm against the driver’s-side window.
Chapter Seventeen
Riggs froze. His back was to the driver’s-side window where the taps came from.
“Gun,” was all Cheyenne said as her eyes widened in shock and fear. She quickly dropped the ladybug inside her handbag.
The 9mm was still in his right hand. He’d used his left to hold the light for Cheyenne. Could he turn fast enough to surprise the person on the other side of the glass?
It was a risky move. Too risky. One wrong flex of a finger and disaster could strike. The sound behind him was at too close a range to miss and it would take Riggs a couple of seconds to swivel enough to get off a shot.
“What does he look like?” he asked Cheyenne.
She put her hands in the air as she rose to her knees. “I can’t tell. His face is covered, and he has on a dark hoodie.”
The same description of the rose buyer from the grocery store. For a fraction of a moment Riggs thought about drawing down on the guy. But Hoodie was already in position to fire and the second or two it would take Riggs to position his weapon could cost Cheyenne her life.
After issuing a sharp sigh, he released his grip on the 9mm, letting it tumble onto the seat and then put his hands in the air before slowly turning around. A gun wasn’t the same MO as Ally’s murder, which meant multiple people could be involved or the original perp could be getting nervous. Ally had been stabbed, a bloody and personal way to die. It fit with the date-gone-wrong ruse.
Riggs’s thoughts immediately jumped to Loriann and her kid. This person couldn’t be random. He had to be connected to the case. Nothing else made sense.
Was this the guy from the gray sedan?
Hoodie took a step back into the shadows and motioned for them to exit the truck. It looked as though he was working alone and that would give Riggs and Cheyenne a possible advantage. Two against one were numbers he’d like better if he was the one in possession of the firearm.